


If I Could Hold Your Hand Again

by Illume



Series: DE Art Fest [3]
Category: Detroit Evolution - Fandom, Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Amnesia, Detroit Evolution Artfest (Detroit: Become Human), Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Inspired by Octopunk Media's Detroit: Evolution Fan Film, M/M, Octopunk Media's Detroit: Evolution Fan Film, Post-Octopunk Media's Detroit: Evolution Fan Film, Spoilers for Octopunk Media's Detroit: Evolution Fan Film, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:33:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25116946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illume/pseuds/Illume
Summary: DE Art Fest Day 6: Amnesia.Nines has to find a way out.A way to remember.
Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Series: DE Art Fest [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1816264
Comments: 1
Kudos: 32





	If I Could Hold Your Hand Again

It had been a hundred and sixty-five hours, forty-two minutes and thirty-seven seconds since the last time Nines had actually seen Gavin’s face. He could see it if he went back through the files that had been stored throughout the day, but it was not the same.

Every single one of those moments lacked the warmth, the deep sigh in his chest that he hadn’t known he was capable of feeling. They were cold, unfeeling, sterile. Just like his mind was, out there.

He had heard the doctors speak about a deeper level of memory; a more advanced type of subconscious. That was how safe mode was working as at the moment. That was why he could remember there.

But, outside…

Nines tried to avoid looking at those particular parts while he processed the information he found helpful to break out of that place; but he could not do it every time. He had to see himself pounding on the door of the containment room for the first two days, trying to return to a mission he had rejected a long time ago.

Gavin had been one of the few people he could be calm around then. That was only because he was told he was his assigned partner.

It was painful to see Gavin trying to adjust to the way he spoke, the lack of response to the jokes that slipped through without him noticing. More than once, he saw him flinching away when he almost tried to grab his hand. All without being able to do anything about it.

If he paid attention, Nines could hear him, actually hear him, while he was placed in safe mode by the doctors. He did not know if that made it any better. At times, Gavin would talk about his day, about seeing Tina and Valerie for coffee, about meeting Chris and his son at a nearby park. Other times...other times were harder. Gavin would whisper how much he missed him, how scared he was that he would have to keep seeing his face with so little...him on it. One time, he even mentioned how, if he had been able to break through once, he could do it again. Nines just wished he could tell him how sorry he was, and assure him he was trying.

All he could do was keep trying.

Over the week, they had discovered what had caused it; a “fail safe” was placed on him, just like the one Connor had. A “handler” program was meant to take control at an opportune moment and force him to complete his mission. Having a meeting with Markus had triggered it. Either fortunately or unfortunately, his experience with Ada had created a glitch within the fail safe and only managed to return his conscious body to its original programming. However, they did not know how to reverse it. The engineers still working at CyberLife had no records of the fail safe or the person who installed it. Which meant that they only knew what Connor could tell them.

It was not much.

He talked about a button, an “emergency exit” on the program.

Nines had walked around his own garden every single day, trying to find anything resembling said button, with no luck.

The next working theory they had, since they were not aware if any communication could reach him, was deviation. That was also troublesome.

He could hear one of the doctors talking to Gavin about it as their next best shot. But, as much of an argument she made, the man always answered with a negative.

There was no way for them to ensure that the deviation wouldn’t change him. It didn’t ensure his memory returning either. It was too much risk for too little gain.

They were running out of time, however. Nines knew this, the doctors probably did too, or were close to finding out. As each cycle of processing went by, he could feel something inching closer; a darkness that threatened his limited space inside his own brain. Sometimes he would lose all recollection of his friends’ faces, only holding onto the whisper of their names. Then he had to resort to the cold filmings his body had stored to will the memories back. He had to keep trying something, anything.

He was walking around again. This time he was crossing a corridor made out of pink camellia bushes on either side. He could hear Gavin in the distance, almost as if through water. He was reading out loud. If he stopped and listened carefully, he could make out the words.

“And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride, in her…” he stopped. “No, I’m not reading that to you.”

Nines smiled sadly. Gavin sounded so tired.

He kept walking when more seconds went by without hearing the man’s voice. Maybe he had fallen asleep.

The corridor became more narrow as he went on, the bushes began growing in size, forming a long arch above him and leading him forward. He had never been in this part of the garden, so it meant that he might be doing progress.

Just then, Gavin’s voice came through once more.

“I feel so stupid. I don’t...I don’t read poetry,” he sighed. “I guess that, if the doctors are right, you can remember that right now...well, if you can hear me.”

There was another pause and Nines found himself clenching his hands into loose fists. Even if he knew it was not the same, he lamented losing the image of Gavin he had created here, long ago. He couldn’t do anything about the hurt tone he could hear in his partner’s voice.

“I just...” he continued. “I keep thinking about last time. I don’t know how I did it, or how you did it; but I need that to happen again.”

Nines walked faster, hoping this path would be helpful. The fog that threatened to cloud his memories seemed to be chasing him through the labyrinth of flowers, making his head throb painfully.

“I-I can’t find the right words now. I can’t think of the perfect thing I should say that will bring you back to me,” the voice continued. “I thought, I don’t know, maybe poems had them.”

A long sigh came through the ceiling of branches. Gavin sounded exhausted, almost defeated.

The path finally opened to a clearing with a gazebo in the middle. The space was covered with more pink camellia bushes, along with sprinkled yarrows, blue salvias and pink carnations that invaded the structure’s space.

He walked towards the middle, noticing ivy covering parts of the walls of the gazebo.

“Listen. This wasn’t...I didn’t want to do anything like this,” a voice came through.

A voice.

Nines couldn’t quite place the name of that voice. It felt almost as if a part of his code was missing. A central piece of him that he couldn’t quite remember where to fit.

A sense of urgency rose in him. He pushed himself to run inside the gazebo, looking around frantically.

There was a button there with the imprint of his hand; it was hidden underneath the ivy growing there.

“Alright. I guess that you will either not hear this, or have to wake up to say something,” the same voice continued. “Listen, Nines. I need you to wake up so I can ask you...”

He pushed the button with his palm.

It was an emergency exit, that was all he knew. He was not certain that it would work the way he needed it to.

It was still better than the alternative.

Better than the sight of the lonely garden, so filled with flowers, but with such a sterile feeling to it. Better than having to look back at the distant recollections of his shallow conscious body. Better than never knowing if he would get to feel the warm sensation of a hand placed in his.

He woke up. It was slow; his eyes fluttered open, his vision slowly focusing on the ceiling above him.

“Nines?”

He knew that voice. It was...his partner. Reed, his name was Reed.

He was told he would be in observation for a while, something to do with his memory; but he did not trust the doctors. He had a mission to accomplish.

What was his mission?

It was…

Gavin.

The man next to him was...Gavin.

Gavin was his partner, yes. But also, well, his partner.

“Gavin?” he managed.

The man let out a relieved sigh.

“Nines!” he said with a small laugh.

They looked at each other and both smiled, recognition in their eyes. Gavin reached closer and kissed him for just a second.

“I...” he stopped, raising his eyebrows.

“What?” panic rose in the man’s voice. “I’m calling the doctors.”

A hand grabbed onto his sleeve, stopping him, then slowly made its way to his own hand, slowly closing around it.

Another smile replaced the panic then.

“What were you going to ask me?”

A startled look appeared on Gavin’s face; this one looked more ashamed than worried.

“I...It can wait,” he answered hesitantly. “I’m going to get your doctors.”

With a squeeze to the android’s hand, he ran out of the room. However, not fast enough for Nines not to notice the blush growing on his face.

It would probably be a while before he could return to safe mode. He had enough lone contemplation during that week. In that moment, he could only think of being able to see Gavin’s pink face rushing to talk to the group outside the room.

**Author's Note:**

> According to my not at all extensive research: pink camellias mean "longing for you", yarrows mean "everlasting love", blue salvias mean "I think of you" and pink carnations mean "I'll never forget you".  
> I managed to "sneak" two things here:  
> One: A small piece of Annabel Lee.  
> Two: An almost proposal.


End file.
